Hunting
by daemoninwhite
Summary: Just a little fic about Dean. Please R


HUNTING

By Daemon-In-White

This story is based around the TV show, Supernatural, and the two questions line is from Van Helsing. None of these are mine, and if anyone reads these, please review! Also, this fic is dedicated to Lady-Gwynevere, who is still one of my best friend.

"You know, I hate hunting. Maybe I used to like it, but I hate it now. Too many bad memories, you know? Bet that you're surprised to hear that, hey. I can act pretty well when I want to.

But, when I really think about it, you were always the interested one when we were kids. You were the one that dragged my sorry ass out of bed at five am just to take some _thing_ down. You were the one who put all your time into it, the one that actually thought about what it could be. I only asked two things about it. What is it and how can I kill it. And you could always answer both for me, couldn't you?

I always relied on you, you know. Sure, I didn't realize it at the time, but I'm just realizing it now. When I look back now, I could just kick myself. How could I be so stupid? I had the best friend that I could ever have and I let you slip right through my fingers. Why did you have to grow up? Why couldn't things just stay the way they were? Why did it have to change?

You know, I can almost pinpoint the time when I first realized you were changing. It was back when we were thirteen, and we'd just got back from kicking something straight back to the supernatural hell where it had first came from. All the way home, you were silent. You barely even answered Dad when he asked you stuff. As soon as we got home, you went straight up to your room and closed the door, silently. Without saying anything.

Now that I think about it, I could probably count on one hand the number of times you talked to me beyond the necessities during our teenage years. What was going on? I remember feeling so confused. How could you do that to me? You were just ignoring me for no apparent reason! It wasn't fair. Hell, it still isn't.

And then, it happened. You were gone, physically this time. All I had was Dad telling me that you had decided to go off to collage. He wouldn't even tell me which one. Probably because he knew that I would go and hunt you down and drag you back home. How could I miss all the signs? The collage papers everywhere … I seriously thought that you were just doing it to annoy Dad. Obviously, you weren't.

The first time that I even knew which state you were in was when Dad went off to hunt whatever it was. He left – and left me a piece of paper with your address on it. And I turn up on your doorstep a week later.

Now I can understand –kind of- how you felt when Jessica died. She was one beautiful girl. You sure know how to pick the lookers. God, you were so upset after that. I've never seen you cry before then. Well, I'd seen you cry when you were four and had a skinned knee, but I'd never seen you cry since you turned about nine. Sad, isn't it? I promised you that I would always be there for you, but I wasn't. Hell, I don't know anything about you anymore! Would you have married Jess if she had have lived? What were you studying? Did you have any idea what you wanted to do with that?

I'm glad Dad left me that piece of paper. I was so happy. For the first time in years, I had my brother right back where he belonged. Sure, you argued the whole way, but it was worth it. I finally had someone at my back again. I finally had the one person who I wanted protecting my back – you.

Dad never had quite the same flair that you did. He was always too wrapped up on finding the thing that got Mum. But, the thing is, even if he does find it, it still won't bring him any closure. Mum's dead, and nothing is going to change that. She's happy, but he's not. He's totally consumed by the need to get revenge. What is it going to do though? It won't bring Mum back; it won't change anything.

When you were gone, he changed. He wasn't the same man we grew up with. He was different, it was almost as though he thought: 'Well, that's the last one gone, now, to find the thing that killed Mary…' He was different. Almost like how you got. Quiet and focused. Sometimes I wondered –just for a moment- if something had swapped the two of you somehow. But it was just my foolish wishing for you back.

I used to have these dreams. Not your dreams, I'm glad I don't get those. Really glad. I know what they did to you. In the dreams, you would be there. I'd walk up to you, and you'd just look at me. Every time I opened my mouth to say something, you'd shake your head. Then you'd walk away from me, just disappear to somewhere. After a while I learnt to not say anything and just look at you. It was funny, cause you were always older in them. I guess it was just how I imagined you. You'd never say anything either. We'd just stand there, in dead silence, until this kind of mist stuff roiled in and I'd wake up. Always missed you really bad after those dreams.

Dad never figured out what was wrong, so don't worry. It's just between you and me. I'd never tell him, I never could. It always just seemed to personal, you know what I'm saying? He wasn't there – he didn't belong there – so I didn't have to tell him anything. Just go on being Super-Boy for him.

God I was tired of him by the end. I always had the feeling that he didn't really like me, you know? So I would try and be everything for him. Be the perfect son. Yeah, my relationship with him wasn't all sunshine and roses either.

But, Dad was proud of you. Hell, he _is_ proud of you. He never said anything, but you could see it in his eyes whenever someone would mention you. A brief flash of pride and sorrow mixed together before he quietly told whoever that you were at collage getting a degree. He'd smile slightly before asking them about the recent murders or whatever we were 'investigating' at that time. You got to believe me, he was proud of you. That's why I could never believe you when you said that Dad hated you. He was so very, very proud of you. Ok, so you weren't helping to rid Earth of the supernatural scum, but you were getting an education. In his eyes, that was just as good.

Sometimes, I wonder what would've happened if I went off to collage as well. Would Dad have let me go? Or would he have hunted you down and made you go off with him. Sometimes, it was the only reason I stayed. I was reasonably happy where I was, and I knew you were. So, I stayed with Dad.

I don't regret it though. I've traveled all around America, been in at least every state. There's no limit to the things you can do if you're legally classified as 'dead'. Well, there is a limit, I mean; you can't walk through walls or anything, but you can come pretty damn close.

But it can be pretty damn lonely too. You and Dad were the only ones that knew I was still alive, I could even walked into a bar and give them my real name in case the police came through and asked if any strangers had been in there. Still didn't stop us sometimes though, did it? Guess the cops must've just thought it was a fake name. Just perfect. My real name is officially classified as a fake name.

I wouldn't change anything for the world though Sammy. My life was perfect as it was. Say hi to Jess and Mum and Dad for me."

Dean Winchester took one last look at his brother's tombstone and walked off, never looking back.

FIN


End file.
